Let it rain over me
by Devoregirl
Summary: Peter gets injured while trying to protect Neal. This story explores the impact of that on Neal. NOW CCOMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am supposed to be studying so of COURSE I ended up doing anything but that. **

**DISCLAIMER: White Collar is the property of USA network. Neither the show nor Neal belongs to me. Life sucks, eh?**

**This story is un-betaed. All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point them out.**

Neal had never liked rain. He hated the way the water seeped through his clothes, soaking him completely. The way cold engulfed him, freezing his bones to the marrow within their core. He hated the way his body betrayed its weakness, shivering relentlessly to get warm again. He absolutely hated the after effects of standing in the rain, the way he got sick because the clouds above decided it was time to give a giant 'Screw you.' to the humans below in the form of miserable, wet weather. Neal Caffrey hated rain, and yet here he was deliberately standing on the roof of a hospital in an autumn downpour trying to clear his head.

He hated rain, yet at this very moment he wanted to punish himself and apparently standing in the freezing rain was the way to go about it. Peter could have died today and it would have been his fault. If Peter had died, he would never forgive himself. If Peter had died, a part of Neal would have died along with him.

Neal was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice someone behind himself until they spoke.

"It wasn't your fault." Diana's tone was sympathetic.

"What are you doing here?" Neal spoke in a monotone.

"Neal, it wasn't your fault that Peter got shot."

"You don't know that." She felt her heart twist as his voice shook slightly. She was used to a calm and collected Neal, this man in front of her was anything but collected. Though his face was an emotionless mask, his eyes held the turmoil he was experiencing. A combination of anguish and guilt at something that was out of his hands, that was not within his hands to begin with.

"Peter knew what he was doing." She stepped closer to him so that he was shielded from the relentless rain under the umbrella she held.

"If I had stayed in the car like he told me to…"

"Then Peter would have been dead anyway. Scofield would have shot him and you wouldn't have been there to put pressure on the wound and call for help. Peter would have bled out." She said matter of factly even as her heart ached at the thought of her boss being dead- Neal needed to know this to pull him out of whatever dark place he was burrowing himself in.

"Diana-." He choked out, "Scofield was aiming for me. Peter jumped in front of me."

"I know, Neal. I know. But Scofield needed a distraction. I told you, he would have shot Peter to get away anyway."

"He stopped breathing, Diana." A tear rolled down his cheek, his facade crumbling as he remembered just how close to death his best friend has come. The terror that had shook him to the core as he had pressed his lips to Peters, blowing air into his friends lungs. As his best friends blood coated his hands from where he was pressing on the wound. There had been so much blood .

He looked so young then, with his normally coiffed hair plastered across his pale face. His expression so young and lost that she would have given him a hug had she not been holding the umbrella over their heads. She settled for squeezing his arm instead.

"He's okay now. You both are. Now come on inside, the doctors said we could see him now. That's what I came here to tell you."

"Thanks, Di." He gave her a small smile.

"You're welcome." She smiled back as she steered him gently towards to door leading inside.

"Oh and I found your hat." She said, procuring his fedora and placing it atop her head, eliciting a laugh from him. Yes, he would be alright.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. My brain keeps procuring all these random scenarios whenever I sit down to study these days -_- So I end up typing like a mad-woman to get them out of my head :p Please leave behind a review if you can. Reviews feed the author. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed this story. Your support was over-whelming and because of several requests for more, I decided to add a few chapters. The events in this chapter are what lead up to the first chapter. I hope this one isn't a monumental disappointment…**

He was floating in the darkness, a painless abyss of nothingness. He didn't know why he felt so much at peace here, surrounded by the shadows. All he knew was that he was safe here, where ever here was. All he remembered was that he had been in agony, and now he wasn't. He would stay here for a while longer, just a little while.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Peter had known Neal Caffrey for the greater part of his career, and he had gotten to know the con-man even better during their two year partnership. Neal was, as El had put it, his work husband. Not in the sexual way- _God_ no! But in the sense that the two of them knew each other so well that they could predict each other's next moves. Peter Burke was the one person who knew Neal inside out. And yet, he had told the younger man to stay in the car while he checked out the warehouse where criminal activity had been reported.

How _very _stupid of him.

Neal never listened to such requests, he knew that and he still told the younger man to stay in the car while he checked out the area.

He knew that Neal was loyal to a fault and he would never leave his partner without backup, not even when he himself had been feeling a bit off that day and the chances of danger were slim.

Peter had noticed Neal subtly pinching the bridge of his nose several times that day, trying to fend off a persistent headache so he had told his friend to stay put for a few minutes.

And now that infuriating, loyal son-of-bitch had walked straight into the line of fire. Scofield had been waiting for a chance, a distraction and he had gotten one.

Neal was grinning at him, his back towards Scofield; unaware that the desperate thief had started to pull the trigger.

Before Peter's horrified look could register in the con-mans mind, before he made any conscious decision himself; his body had already shoved the younger man to the side and safety. He thought that they had both come out unscathed.

Then the pain hit him.

It was excruciating, white hot agony. He would have screamed if he could but it felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest. He gasped desperately, trying to suck in some air but it was becoming harder and harder to breathe.

Somewhere, far away he heard Neal yelling something at him.

Then the pain increased exponentially and he couldn't see anymore. He couldn't breathe.

But it was okay, it didn't hurt anymore.

He was a cloud, hovering in the air. He was floating in the darkness where there was no pain.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I'm thinking of writing another chapter; with Neal and Peter facing the (emotional-?) aftermath of the shooting… Or do you think I should just stop here? Please leave behind a review if you can, reviews feed the author : )**


	3. Chapter 3

He was happy here, wherever here was. All he knew was that here, it was nice and warm. Nothing could hurt him here. There was none of the choking pain he vaguely recalled as his most recent memory.

But something was missing. He was alone here and while he didn't mind solitude every now and then; he craved the company of his wife more. And right now, he wanted- no, he needed to see El.

His return to consciousness was gradual. First, the pain came back. He should have expected that, really, since he chose to leave his safe haven. Next, his sense of hearing returned. An annoying beep-beep-beep pulled him further towards consciousness. Then, he opened his eyes.

And they snapped shut immediately, instinctively shying away from the brightness.

He must have made a sound because suddenly, he could hear someone moving about. And then the brightness he could see even with his eyes closed lessened a bit.

Soft hands caressed his face, and his lips curled up slightly into a smile.

"El." He breathed out softly, opening his eyes to see his smiling wife.

"Hon." She whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as Peter finally opened his eyes.

"Hon." His voice, although weak from what his body had just been through, reassured her that he would be all right.

Elizabeth leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on his lips, moving back as he started to respond.

"Peter. I was so scared." And there it was, the vulnerability that El seldom allowed anyone to see. The fact that she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice was reason enough for him to tug her gently closer.

"The doctors said that you had two broken ribs and… and one of your lungs had collapsed." She was holding his hand tightly in hers.

"Shh, El. Its okay. I'm okay."

"You were shot, Peter. They said that you had stopped breathing! If Neal hadn't started performing the CPR when the paramedics arrived..." A tear slid sown her cheek as she squeezed his hand again.

He hated to see El upset, his heart clenching painfully inside his chest at the sight of her distress. He pulled her so that she was lying next to him- broken ribs be damned.

"Where's Neal? Did you talk to him?"

"He won't say much except apologize. He seems to think that this was his fault."

El tilted her head towards the small couch, silently gesturing towards the man sitting on it.

Neal sat leaning against the wall, his clothes crumpled, and his hair falling on his face. He looked uncomfortable from the lines on his face.

"He hasn't left, you know." El continued.

Peter felt himself smile fondly as he glanced at the sleeping form of his friend.

Neal stirred and then jolted awake with a gasp, his eyes unfocussed for a second as he shook off the remnants of whatever dream he had just escaped from.

Neal's eyes swept across the room, instinctively scoping out his surroundings when he saw Peter, awake and looking right back at him with an amused smile on his face. It was so typical of the conman, to wake up when he was being discussed.

"I'm just going to leave you boys to it, then." El said, standing up deftly and making her way out of the room as Neal stared, slightly open-mouthed at Peter.

The younger man just gazed at his partner for a few second before leaping to his feet.

"Peter!" his voice was relieved.

"Neal." He smiled.

**A/N: I skipped the whole nurse-coming-to-check-the-patient-when-he-woke-up part because frankly speaking, I'm really sleepy :p Please leave behind a review if you can. Reviews feed the author. And please feel free to point out any mistakes, I welcome constructive criticism. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:I started writing this chapter, intending it to be the final one. And this happened. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Wotumba who is just so encouraging and fun to talk to. I'm sorry you didn't find Matt under your Christmas tree, I hope this belated Christmas present helps :p**

**Thank you everyone who has reviewed this story or added them to your favorites or alerts. **

The nightmare started as all his dreams had since Peter was shot. He re-lived his actions of that fateful day until the moment his friend had saved him from the bullet. His mind had projected so many scenarios so far, he thought there couldn't possibly be more ways to twist the happenings of the day. All the 'what-if's?' that had been in his thoughts haunted him in his sleep with HD images and surround sound.

It was the vivid quality to his dreams, all the little details that had made them even more horrific. The small coffee stain on his tie from that day, the music that had been playing in the car on the way to the warehouse, the two eagles that had been circling overhead that he had barely given a thought to that day. It had all been there. All the meager details.

That's why he knew that he was dreaming this time round. The surroundings were choppy, unclear. The images changed from blurry, rainbow coloured to sepia toned and then to old-fashioned black and white and then back again without any obvious pattern. He was watching the events unfold as if he was observing from afar, another thing that made him certain that this was a dream. Every other time, he had actively participated in the events of his memories that were contorted by guilt.

And yet, this was the most horrifying nightmare yet.

He was unable to look away as the distorted face of Scofield smiled before pulling the trigger. As Peter collapsed, blood spurting from his chest as if it were a fountain.

He watched, aghast as his friend lay their bleeding. His breath hitching as he tried to breathe.

He looked around, waiting for his dream counterpart to rush to his partners' aid.

But there was no Neal Caffrey there.

He came to the chilling realization that there was no one there to help Peter.

He tried to get up, to find a way to help his friend but it was as if he was quite literally stuck on the outside looking in.

Then, as it could only happen in dreams, he was standing just a few feet away from his dying friend. It seemed even crueler now, to be so close yet be unable to do anything to help his friend.

As he struggled to move, he saw a figure approach Peter.

He tried to yell out, but it was as if his lips were sewn shut.

All he could do was watch as Peter arched his back in pain, the red blood pouring out his dying body the only thing that was coloured.

Then, Peters eyes went blank and he stilled completely.

And a cold laugh filled the air, so shrill it actually hurt his ears.

Neal found that he could move now and his feet unconsciously carried him towards the man who had killed his best friend.

As he got closer, the shadows shifted so that they were masking Scofields features until he was face to face with the murdering bastard.

Only, it wasn't Scofield standing their smirking at having killed in cold-blood.

It was him.

Then Neal jolted awake with a gasp.

TBC

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Happy New Year and a belated Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all my readers. Please leave behind a review if you can. It feeds the muse. **

**The next chapter will hopefully be the final one. If anyone has any ideas or suggestions, I'm open to them. Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Peter, you're awake!" Neal said a little breathlessly, an after-effect of whatever demons had been haunting him during his REM sleep, no doubt.

"I could say the same for you. El told me that you hadn't gone home since I was admitted?" Peter tried to sound reprimanding but ended up sounding more grateful instead. After all, it really couldn't have been comfortable spending hours on end in the extremely ugly and uncomfortable looking chair provided by the hospital. And to have fallen asleep in that chair showed him how exhausted Neal would have been. All the more reason to be grateful for his friend's presence.

"Are you thirsty? Would you like some water?" Neal inquired, already on his feet and on his way to the jug of water perched on the bedside table.

"No, thanks. El already took care of that."

Neal hesitated at his side, unsure of what he was supposed to do now.

"Um, how are you feeling?" Neal's hesitance in speech further amplified his uncertainty.

"I feel good, a bit high, actually. I think they hit me with the good stuff." Peter nodded towards the morphine pump pushing the proper dosage of the drug into his system. It really was a miracle drug. He could still feel the pain at a distant corner of his mind, but he didn't care about it. It was times like these when Peter truly appreciated the magic of modern medicine.

Neal had plopped himself back onto the uncomfortable chair and now sat stiffly as he fidgeted and avoided Peter's gaze altogether. The silence drew on far longer than either of the men was comfortable with.

"Listen, Peter I-…."

"Neal, what's go-…"

Both men broke the unsavory stillness that had settled upon them simultaneously.

"You go first." Neal spoke, flapping his hand in a casual manner though his tight smile and tone indicated to how tensed he truly felt.

Peter cleared his throat and turned his hair to fix the younger man with a reassuring gaze. "What's going on with you? Are you okay?"

"Me?! Am _I_ okay? Peter, you're the one who got shot!"

And there it was. The true reason behind the CI's discomfort. Guilt rolled off him in waves as he spoke, it was almost as if he could see it. Peter felt rather stupid. Of course Neal felt guilty. That was just the way the younger man's mind worked. Catch him forging a painting and he would smile beatifically at you, his intelligent eyes glinting with mischief even as he turned up the charm to full throttle and reassured everyone of his innocence. Which they believed in, of course. He was just that damn good.

On the other hand, Neal was an excessively compassionate individual. He could not bear seeing someone hurt either physically or emotionally. A fact proven by his aversion to guns and helping out people in his own way. And now, he somehow felt as if it was his fault that his best friend got shot. Typical. Peter let out a frustrated sigh; he was no good at talking about feelings and such. But he was going to have to make an effort. He heard his father's voice saying "cowboy up" as if he was standing in the same room as him.

"Neal, what's really going on with you?" Peters voice was now pitched low, soothingly so and Neal fell back into his chair from where he had sprung up to pace.

"Peter, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I was such an idiot."

"I will be the first one to vouch for your idiocy on the best of days, Neal. But this?" And with that Peter gestured towards his bandaged chest. "This is not your fault. Scofield shot me. Not you."

Neal glanced away, looking guilty. His voice barely audible as he spoke.

"I dreamt it though, you know. I dreamt that I shot you. And you _died_ Peter! You were dead!"

"Neal, it was only a dream. You would never hurt me. Both of us know that."

"It was so real, Peter." And for the first time since he had known the con man, Neal Caffery slumped in his seat. Not good. He clearly had to switch tactics.

"From what I've heard, you are the reason I'm still alive, Neal. Guess I owe you a thank you."

"You shouldn't have to. If I had only stayed in the car.." Neal started, practically radiating misery.

"Then the chances of me being dead might actually have been higher. You wouldn't have reached me in time to start first aid."

"Peter, you stopped breathing." And this was spoken in such a broken way that Peter couldn't stop himself from reaching out a hand to grasp his best friends.

"But you started it again, Neal. You. Saved. Me." Peter enunciated slowly, tightening his grip on his friend's hand. Telling him with his expression and reassuring him with his touch that this was not his doing. Peter was still with him, alive and as well as he could be under the circumstances. He must have succeeded somewhat as Neal's suspiciously bright eyes blinked rapidly a few times and he squeezed Peter's hand back gratefully before gently pulling away.

Neal let out a sigh. "I guess."

"I know so, Neal. Besides, it was really stupid of me to tell you to stay put. Considering the fact that I know you. And you suffer from ADHD." Peter grinned, glad that the guilt that had engulfed the con man seemed to be dissipating.

"I do not!" was the outraged reply. Neither men liked talking about feelings and Neal gratefully jumped at the chance to change the topic.

"You do too! You cannot sit still for five minutes. Always swiveling about on your seat or playing with that ridiculous rubber ball!"

"If I care to improve my reflexes-.."

"By playing with a rubber band ball." Peter supplied helpfully, his eyes dancing in mirth.

"As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted. If I care to improve my reflexes and ability to multi-task, I shall do so." Neal huffed in phony ire.

"Which technically translates to spending more time in front of the mirror than my wife whilst simultaneously acting like a five year old." Peter grinned, laughing still hurt.

"Hey, technically speaking you _have _kissed both of us now." Neal chuckled, suddenly feeling lighter than he had felt in days.

"That was CPR! That's _not_ called kissing! Really, how old are you? Ten?" Peter said, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably as he grinned widely.

"So, we're good?" Neal asked.

"We have never been better, Neal." And Peter meant it from the bottom of his heart.

**THE END.**

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm so sorry you all had to wait for so long for an update. I literally got bombarded with exam upon exam. Turns out, med school is tough after all. Who would have thought? :p**

**And now that I have concluded my second multi chapter fic (it's a big deal for me, seriously.), I would be really glad if you left behind a review and let me know what you thought. I'm also accepting prompts for any new stories since I actually have a few days off before my next semester begins. Once again, thank you.**


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